[Deleted]

There were tension in the air along the line to acess the Illusion Lounge. It was 1:30 am and the DJ who was going to perform from 2.am was a local celebrity – but Lorenzo had never heard of him even once, the young man was not a clubber– and someone from administration had messed up the internet resa : there were way too many people who wanted to go inside the Illusion Lounge and had paid a lot of money to be allowed to do so. And on top of that, some other enthousiastic drunkheads were coming from all the bars of Las Eurosia to see that famous DJ – what was his name again ? - because someone from public relations had tought it would be a great to keep floading the insta of the nightclub with advertising for this special event. Even if the Illusion Lounge was full since midnight – without the arrival of the «Very VIP » - which was the name they came up with at public relations to name the clubbers who had reserved a golden ticket on the internet to come specifically at 2.AM… A horde of rich clubbers ready to fight the mean security guards – security guard whose evilish purposes were to prevent any joy to happen even if they had reserved the golden ticket on the internet.

To resume, this night was a mess and it was up to Lorenzo and his colleagues to be frightening to keep everybody (even the dreadful « Very VIP ») disciplined at the front door of the Illusion. Then, raidrop started to fall. A tedious rain, removing the make-up and gel of the frustrated clubbers.

Lorenzo hoped his contact would present himself another night. Would that Noah help him if they met into this mess ? But the oldest Lèclusier was next to a very shy, old and fragile woman when he phoned the Blackstorm menber earlier on the day, and consequently, his gift made Lorenzo shy and fragile… He wish he would have dared to propose a precise time to mister STCloud, but this woman next to him was so scared to bother, so scared to waste the precious time of others, so scared to be hated because she was so useless and time-consuming...That Lorenzo had told Noah to come « when it was possible for him this week» «don’t put yourself into any disturbance for my little worries about my sister, even if I wish..I mean it would be great if, maybe, if we could begin, if you're ready, to maybe meet but I don't want to bother you» and whispered him fearfully his schedules of the week : 9 PM to 2 AM on wednesday, thursday and friday, and 9 PM to 6 AM the rest of the week. « Would it be okay to meet before or after a shift ? If it’s not a problem, I don’t want to cause you any problem. »

When the women had left and Lorenzo had hanged the phone he had hated himself for being so scared and unclear: why did he not just pick up a precise time for the meeting with Noah StCloud? But by the time he was standing next to this woman, he was sure he was going to be alone forever if he bothered his children, grand-children or anybody for too long..And now that he remenbered he had no children or grand-children and  that he shouldn’t be shy to ask for help to SAVE HIS SISTER, it was too late and he had to go to work. He decided he would phone back Noah the next day if he didn’t come tonight, and THEN Lorenzo would be clear and confident... or at least, Lorenzo would be sitting next to someone clear and confident...Yeah.

-Are you the French guy ?

Lorenzo jumped: he was filled with the nervousness of the line waiting outside the nightclub. He turned over and discovered the bored face of one of the new bartender – a skinny young man with blue hair.

-I..I...I am. I am.

-You are ?

-I am the French guy, insisted Lorenzo as if he tried to convince himself.

-The one who can punch ?

The bartender seemed doubtfull about it. He frowned, noticing the shaking hands of Lorenzo. But the young Lèclusier didn’t notice it, he was already swallowed by the strong feeling of hate of two nearby girls who began to experience a headache thanks to the wait. Lorenzo tried to focus on someone more patient, and with no headache, but he couldn’t find any positive feelings along the line.

-He’s the French guy, he’s just tired, intervened Samuel, a peaceful fifty years old colleague who had already helpt Lorenzo not getting fired when he was ..weird. What do you need him for ?

-A fight. One of them is huge. The other mean. They’re scaring the shit out of the costumers, explained the bartender, still staring dubiously at the odd and tiny guy supposed to solve the problem.

-...And I wait and wait and wait all day and then I try to have fun but I have to wait again... mumbled Lorenzo with tears in his eyes.

Samuel chuckled nervously in front of the bartender and gave a huge slap in the back of Lorenzo. The young Lèclusier get suddenly floaded by fatherly worries, patience and compassion. Bob’s feeling. Better.

-Lorenzo can handle both huge and mean, declared Samuel to the bartender. Come on son ! Wake up ! Time to show them you deserve your job.

-I deserve my job, I work at the Illusion Lounge my name is Lorenzo Lèclusier, those are my hands, this is my head, those are my feets, this is my voice even if those feelings are not mine, mumbled Lorenzo following the Bartender into the club. Wait ! Sam ! If a Noah StCloud appears, can you bring him to me ? It’s important, it’s about my son...my sister. It's about my sister.

[Noah St Cloud]

It wasn’t unusual for Noah to receive strange calls from unknown numbers.

They tended to be leads to follow, names to look into and people to sniff around, or else they were usually requests for help – with cleaning, with hiding, with making a problem go away. But they tended to be from voices he recognised, at least. Certifiable Blackstorm members – if there were such a thing. The call he received that day, however, was a little more complex.

The man on the other end of the line was French by the sound of his accent. Stammering and shy, he was concerned about his sister and wanted to meet in person to discuss her, but to Noah the man seemed far more worried about upsetting him than solving whatever problem he had with her – emphasising that he didn’t want to take up Noah’s time, didn’t want to bother him…

How strange.

To be honest, Noah was annoyed that someone from Blackstorm had given out his number to a stranger, an unknown, rather than telling him about the potential recruit and letting him perform a background check on Lorenzo to decide whether he was safe and worth contacting. But it was too late to think about ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’; Lorenzo had Noah’s name and number and who knew what else. He figured it couldn’t hurt to meet with him once. Just to see what he had to say.

It was past midnight when he made his way to Illusion Lounge. Rain had begun to spill from the clouds and he tilted his head back to catch some drops on his tongue, unconcerned that the water was splashing against his skin and soaking into his hair and clothes. It felt good. And it would dry.

The queue to the club was long but Noah walked straight on past it, ignoring the few protests that arose from those who noticed what he was doing. Lorenzo was supposedly a bouncer, and if he truly wanted to find his sister, Noah figured that cutting the line was unlikely to be a issue.

Except, the bouncer at the door was a familiar face.

“Sammy!” Noah cheered, throwing his hands in the air as he approached. He whistled low, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced back at the line of people in wait. “Wow, busy night for you, huh? Hey man, I know there’s a queue and all but can you let me in?”

“Noah,” Samuel greeted with decidedly less enthusiasm. He squinted at him. “Is your last name St. Cloud?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re here for Lorenzo?”

“Maybe.”

A cheeky grin remained fixed on his lips, but annoyance (and a fair amount of wariness) prickled unpleasantly along the nape of his neck. Was his full name being passed around freely for any old idiot or Sector spy to get their hands on? Had Samuel been told anything about Blackstorm or Noah’s connection to it? Was this some sort of trap and a whole gang was waiting indoors, ready to attack him?

“He went inside a minute ago to sort out a fight. I’d take you to him myself but…” Samuel trailed off, gesturing to the line of awaiting patrons.

“You’re stuck here,” Noah finished for him. He nodded. “Say no more. Thanks, Sam. See ya around!” He clapped the bouncer on the shoulder as he passed him into the club, ignoring the second wave of protests from the queue and Samuel’s subsequent attempts to placate them.

The world inside was coloured red by dim fluorescent lights. A generic house track pounded through the air and vibrated under his feet, and while he couldn’t hear the fight over the music, he could see where it was from his vantage point as he descended the stairs. There was a small clearing in the crowd as dancers warily retreated to give the aggressors their space. One man was huge, the second man almost a foot shorter, and the third was somewhere between them in terms of height and had an impressively ugly scowl as he spat something at the tallest man.

Noah debated joining in. Just for the fun of it. Then he shrugged and realised he’d much rather have a drink, so he headed to the bar on the raised platform beside the dancefloor, got comfy on a barstool, and watched the trio while he waited for his fancy cocktail to arrive. Perhaps he’d take a guess at which one of the men was this ‘Lorenzo’, and place a bet on who would win.


@gwen

[Deleted]

Mirror


Et merde…. At the end of the fight, Lorenzo was confused. What happened ? He couldn’t quite remenber or understand who he was between the two other fighters. He just stood there, alone in the middle of the small clearing in the middle of the crowded dancefloor. He couldn’t ear whatever techno-music was playing, his ears were filled with a loud buzz. He looked down at the huge guy who was stunned on the floor. There was blood on the head of the guy. And Lorenzo’s head hurted him, but when he tuched his own  nose or jaws, there was no blood. Hm. I’m not him. Some friends of the muntain guy grabbed him under the armpit and escorted him outside. As his opponent slowly disappeared, Lorenzo’s hearing came back and the pain in his head went down. I’m not him. I’m not him. Those are my hands. Lorenzo looked at his hand with their joint bruised. Hehe, if his hands looked like that and the other guy like that… I still got it, discovered Lorenzo with a smile. Flora would have rolled her eyes up if she had seen him smile: « Can't you interact with other men without smashing them dear half-brother? Patriarchy have still wonderful years to come thancks to guy like you»

The smaller guy had disappeared, only his jacket remained. Lorenzo looked the clothe with empty eyes for a while and then briskly headed to the main counter. He had work to do to find Flora, he couldn't let his curse win and make him lose is mind. But already who he was began to fade and other's sensation replaced its own. One of the manager of the club passed by and knead Lorenzo's shoulder « Good Job Lèclusier, good job » and then disappeared, swallowed by the crowd. Lorenzo sunddenly felt the confidence of  the manager; he asked himself who the hell was Lècluiser. Then Lorenzo left the persona of the manager and became someone else: he just wanted to have fun and the bouncer who ended up the fight was scary he looked under that terrible russian drugg she had heard of, and then Lorenzo hit the counter and remenbered he was Lorenzo. Merde. I am Lorenzo, I am Lorenzo. there were too many people here for him to exist without alcohol. The young bartender with blue hairs met him when Lorenzo slumped on the nearest barstool. The bartender's mouth was torn with disgust.

-I know management want us to scare those kind of guys but...How to put it... What the fuck? Are you a fucking war criminal?

What was he talking about ? Lorenzo was suddenly very happy to be here and almost went dancing then he remenbered : Focus on your goal : find some alcohol, then you can remenber who you are and focus on the task you wanted to do...What was it? Meet someone who could help him find Flora. Flora. Focus on Flora. You're little sister, smart and brave but scared, you are Flora's brother, you are Lorenzo, the brother of Flora and nothing else mather, don't let other people feeling interfere. The cursed man grabbed his own head, trying to convinced his body this was his own sensation : confusion and the head and stomach which hurts. And the feeling of his hands pulling his hairs. Those are my hands, I am me...

-Can I have a whiskey ? He pratically begged.

Lorenzo could felt the "I hate that club" realisation of the blue haired gen-z bartender as he realised he was the only one thinking Lorenzo shouldn't have break the nose of the too fighters to solve the problem. But the young guy obeyed anyway and grabbed a glass. Lorenzo's tongue couldn’t decide what drink he wanted tonight. Complicated blueberry cocktail? Beer!? Water!!! Spritz!!!!… Focus. Don’t get lost. You just need alcohol so you can stay focus. Simple alcohol.

-Whiskey. Neat. Double. Quickly. Please, he whispered, staring at his own hands.

The whiskey took ages to come and Lorenzo experienced many lives who weren't his own. He was having fun but he had a little worriness : he hoped he didn’t lost his ticket for the checkroom...Wait, you don’t need a ticket for the checkroom, you’re an employee… He felt so great tonight ! Then alone. Then dubious about how such a place was supposed to be fun then so exciteeeeeed ! No. No...Whisckey and then Noah StCloud ! He had to go back outside in case of Noah StCloud arrival. Remenber who you are. Remenber your goal. This girl had given him NoahStCloud number and name, she  worried for Flora: « I shouldn’t do this... but I think Noah can sort this out. He's...skilful. And if she's still alive, we have to find your sister. She could be decisive for us. And also...I have to say I feel for her. I swear to you, if the Hunters have found her and done her any arm...We will avenge her.» If they've done her any arm... Lorenzo shivered then closed his eyes. He knew she was alive. They were connected. He smiled. Little annoying Baby Fora. She was so...He would never understood how Flora had managed to grow into such a stubborn and full of life little woman, giving were they both came from. He had became what he had to become, some wandering european white trash, and it was okay, but Flora...She managed somehow to find light along the way. She was a miracle. And nothing bad can happen to a miracle, can it? 

-Here’s your whiskey, muttered the blue haired bartender. Leatherface, he added in a whisper.

[Noah St Cloud]

The brawl was over quickly. Although one man was big and another looked sly, the third man knew how to box properly, whereas the other two likely only had experience of bar fights with equally untrained opponents.

From his seat at the bar, Noah chuckled, lifting his cocktail to his lips as he watched the sly man stumble away and the big man get dragged out by friends a moment later. The victor made his way towards the bar, and Noah eyed him with open interest as he approached. He looked a little ruffled but no worse for wear and he was smiling. No one was trying to remove him from the club, so did that mean he was the bouncer who wanted to meet him?

The man – presumably Lorenzo – suddenly gripped his head after reaching the bar, his expressions flicking strangely and rapidly from nauseous to happy to confused to focused and back again as he lifted his head to stare at his hands instead. Noah simply continued to watch, head tilted curiously as he tried to make sense of it. Was he having some sort of internal battle? Liking the fight, liking the feeling of victory, but feeling remorseful for hurting those men? Noah had met such characters before. Ones with guilty consciences. To which he could only roll his eyes at and assure them it was fine, it was okay to like violence and be good at it. It was only the culture around them that had told them it was bad, when in reality it was one of the most natural things in the world.

A whiskey was set in front of Lorenzo. Even with the neon lights above them colouring the world in red hues, Noah recognised the dark liquid from metres away. He also recognised the disgusted look on the bartender’s face, and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Hey!” Noah called out from his end of the bar, grinning brightly. “Ta sœur a disparu?” Perhaps Lorenzo wouldn’t even be able to hear him over the thumping music. He chuckled and shook his head, getting up from his stool so he could slide his drink along the bar top and settle into a seat closer to the other man. “Just kidding, I don’t speak French–”

The flood of emotions hit him like a truck. The joy of friends dancing together, goofing off rather than trying to entice others. The anticipation and hunger of two lovers brushing past, heading straight for the exit with so many plans for the night. The impatience of someone else at the bar still waiting for their drinks to be served and the discomfort of their friend who had decided an hour ago they wanted to leave, wanted to be curled up in bed asleep and not have to deal with a hangover in the morning. The nerves and hope of the man beside Noah, who wanted to find his sister, was sure she would be okay, was sure she was alive and could be found because how could she not be?

Noah groaned, eyes squeezing shut while he gripped the bar. It was difficult. Far more difficult to push out the empathy gift from him than it was to push away others; all those emotions weren’t exactly easy to ignore, to forget, so he had to block it out more forcefully. Had to bite the inside of his cheek sharply enough to draw blood. Had to focus on the myriad of coloured bottles lining the wall and decide exactly what superfluous name would be given to each hue in a paint catalogue.

“Hah…” Noah panted once he’d finally returned the empathy gift to its rightful owner. Features suddenly sharpening into a glare, he lashed out to grasp at Lorenzo’s shirt, yanking him close so he could snarl in his face. “What the hell was that?”

He could only assume it was Lorenzo’s gift rather than some random club patron’s. It made sense that Lorenzo would be gifted himself if he’d been able to get in contact with Blackstorm at all – and ah yes, Noah was there on Blackstorm business, wasn’t he? He needed to calm down. Needed to keep his reputation intact.

He released Lorenzo's shirt and sat back in his seat wearily, dragging a hand over his face with a sigh. “Sorry about that. But, uh, a little warning would have been nice.” He forced himself to a smile, though it was a little strained. “Let’s get out of here. Somewhere with less people – your club’s staffroom, the alley outside, wherever. You lead the way.”


@gwen

[Deleted]

Noah St Cloud


He felt...Nothing. Well...Some slight pain in his fist, some relieve to see the man before him, who he tought to be Noah st cloud, some impatience to see if this man could help him as the girl had told him, but that was it There was nothing else. Lorenzo was...himself. Just some bruised fist, an expectation and a goal.. How few was he. How simple, how basic. It was almost disapointing to realise that without the constant flood of other’s feelings he was so...Normal. He felt like he had no complexity, no personal nuance, no dark sides. Like a second character quickly written by an autor who then put it into the world. He felt like he was nothing more than the few lines he constantly repeated to himself to not become some water lost in the ocean. After all, he had never been anythning than a few lines : he was so constantly drowned by others he had to resume his personality to the minimum to distinguish himself from the whole wild world. But the price wat so be ...so... boring ? Forgetable ? He always thought experiencing life without his gift would be deliverance but it was terrible. Almost worst. But the true question was...What happened to his gift ?

When Noah StCloud had approached him he had thought that Flora and him were made from the same wood. Noah looked like those people who decided than, since there where going to die anyway, life should be a playground. But they also where generous people who have to save humanity at the same time -just don’t forget to have fun along the way. The french wasn’t part of those type of people -he was quieter, more forgetable -, but he appreciated the work playful leprechaun did to lighten up a darker and darker world. Noah asked Lorenzo where was his sister in french - then said it was a joke. Lorenzo almost smiled -he was always reassured when he heard the langage of his motherland - and then Noah became….Weird. His faces was...Swaping. Like he was multiple people at the same time. He seemed tortured. There was no more playful light. Lorenzo froze. Were someone hurting the guy who was about to help him ? Flora’s green book had taught him there were many maniac with many powers out there. Maybe one of them followed Noah ? He was a high price prey, being from blackstorm, from what Lorenzo understood.

-Qu’est ce que….Non...Can I help you ? What is happening ?

Then Noah gave Lorenzo his gift back and snarled at Lorenzo for the bad trip he experienced. Lorenzo stayed poker face as the flood of other’s feelings run trough his brain. The french was reassured to see Noah getting back to normal. It was not an attach it was just...Lorenzo's gift, that Noah had managed to borrow for some mysterious reason. Lorenzo would have hated it if his new allies died in front of him. He needed Noah. Plus Noah seemed as fun as he was disconected from some realities, just like Flora….those little pure-hearted full of confidence rich people who wanted to save dolphin. Loved them, but they were not from the same world.

-Sorry about that. But, uh, a little warning would have been nice.

-Well...Maybe ask first next time, l’ami... grouched Lorenzo.

Yeah... he had sympathy for this too-cool-for-school Noah, but those kinds of flamboyant personality needed to have bundaries set quickly. Otherwise they could became ...bossy. At least, Flora was like that. It was all fun and games until she decided she was the chief and she knew better than anyone not talking loudly enough because she was way cooler. Maybe Noah would be different, but Lorenzo trusted his experience.

Noah proposed to move to a less crowded area. Lorenzo nodded coldly, trying to hide how grateful he was for the proposal, and led Noah to the staffroom. After they went dowstairs, Lorenzo opened a metalic door. It was gloomy, the kind of place you see in a Martin Scorcese.

-Bienvenue. 

Here they could talk without Lorenzo becoming an other person every three second. But the room smelled like a wet dog.

-My shift is over, I would just like to change if it’s ok with you, mister StCloud, began Lorenzo. But then we can get out of the Illusion. Thank you for answering so quickly to the...euh...SOS. I’m Lorenzo, as you have guessed. Without you, my sister is lost. I..Can't help her. I guess you've understand why... But I think you can...help her... I hope so at least.

Without letting time for Noah to  answer, Lorenzo grabbed some clothes and went to the shower - he stank with this fight and the rain. He locked the compartment – an old habbit. Far from Noah, it was easier to concentrate to explain the situation without being amused by everything like he thought Noah would be. As always, the water running from the shower was freezing. Come on...Gosh I hate the Illusion... But the icy water helped him focus. 

- My sister is missing for three month. She’s 25, Flora Lèclusier, she studies journalism. She discovered she was...like us, when she arrived to Las Eurosia. Her friends from university had noticed she seemed preocupied the week before she went missing but nothing else...It’s strange because my sister like to talk about her problems and feelings with her friends...Gen Z you know...Anyway, no strange boyfried, strange girlfriend, nothing. The last time she was seen, it was at the library of her school. She didn’t take any book, just did some research on the internet…

Now dressed as a civilian, his hair thrickling on the floor lke a stray dog, Lorenzo went back into the locker side of the staffroom. He felt something...Odd in Noah's feeling. This guy was not all light and fun as Lorenzo had first thought. There was a wound. Dark. Don't psychanalyse the poor guy, focus on finding your sister. The french grabbed a green notebook from his locker and throw it to Noah like he was trying to murder him with it. It was not on purpose...Lorenzo did few things on purpose... Come on!

-Sorry for that... Anyway...They’ve already given my sister’s appartment to an other student… Ils perdent pas de temps...But the caretaker had kept all her personal effect. I found nothing useful. But there was this notebook...It’s Flora’s handwritting… It’s full of names, gift, adresses… In the postcard she sent me three month before her disappearance, Flora talked about Hunters...Sectors...She was affraid of them, she hoped to found « Blackstorm »…. I don’t have the feeling that she disapeared because of something related to her school. But I don’t know where to start looking among the different gangs of gifted… It seems complicated...

Lorenzo witnessed a cockroach running under a locker with empty eyes. Gosh, I hate the Illusion Lounge.

-J’oubliais ! Your colleague decided it was urgent because of this : my sister can travel through time. It’s her gift. Hope it’s not something to worry about...

He wasn't even jocking. Lorenzo had never watch any sci-fi movie or read anything about physic, he was a former plumber trying to not fall into madness, star-treck was the last thing he needed into his scattered brain.

[Noah St Cloud]

Lorenzo regarded him coldly (and Noah couldn’t entirely blame him – he had grabbed at him and hissed in his face, after all), yet he still agreed to move somewhere else and Noah barely had a moment to gulp down the rest of his cocktail before striding after him, doing his best not to think about the emotions that he’d felt from the people around them.

Down some stairs he had never noticed before, the staff room was not washed in red like the main club above, nor was it as flashy or well-maintained. It was lit by much more standard fluorescent lighting that still somehow managed to leave the space looking a bit gloomy, and it was difficult not to notice how stale it smelled. Almost damp.

Lorenzo announced he was going to change out of his clothes.

Oh? Noah’s brow shot up. That was a different kind of ambush to the one he had been expecting. Was he going to strip down in front of him? Try to seduce him into helping? It was an amusing thought and the beginnings of a smirk pulled across his lips, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. But – no, the man just wanted to shower after his shift, which made a lot more sense, and Noah huffed a soft laugh to himself for having jumped to conclusions.

Although Lorenzo was hidden behind the cubicle door, Noah turned his back to give him some extra privacy and occupied himself by taking a peek inside any lockers that had been left open. Lorenzo reiterated that he wanted Noah’s help in finding his sister, and that he couldn’t find her on his own because of his gift (which made sense, since Noah imagined it would be hard to get anything done with surrounding people’s emotions influencing his own so much).

The sister, Flora, was studying journalism and had been missing for three months – which, honestly, didn’t sound too alarming to Noah. He had temporarily ghosted people (including his family when they were still alive) for far longer periods and considered suggesting to Lorenzo that she simply wanted some alone time. But Lorenzo emphasised that she was close with her friends, had been acting out of character before her disappearance, and it was weird for her to go somewhere without saying anything to them, so maybe there was more to it than running off on a solo road trip.

It wasn’t long before the shower faucet turned off and Lorenzo reappeared, wet haired and wearing a fresh change of clothes. Just as Noah was about to ask for more details, Lorenzo retrieved a notebook from his locker and launched it at him. With force. As if he intended to knock him out with it.

Thankfully Noah caught it before it could hit him square in the face, his brow raised again in incredulity, and Lorenzo swiftly apologised, but it was… strange, to say the least. Was Lorenzo’s mood still being influenced by others, even when they were far from the crowd? Was he simply a bit… scattered?

With a small, mystified shake of his head, Noah crossed over to the seating area and plopped himself down in a chair, kicking his feet up to rest them on the table. He flipped open the notebook. Found comments in both English and French. Names, addresses, phone numbers… If she was studying to become a journalist, perhaps the details belonged to sources she hoped to pursue for a good story.

Lorenzo continued, with one remark in French that Noah focused far more time and brainpower on than was necessary. Ils perdent pas de temps. They – something – no time, he translated. He mouthed the word perdent to himself, trying to remember it so he could look it up later, then remembered he was supposed to be listening to the rest of what Lorenzo was saying. And what he was saying at that moment was very relevant to Noah’s interests.

Eyes brightening, he looked down at the notebook again. Realised Lorenzo was right: there were gifts jotted down beside some names. Newfound excitement flashed through him and he gripped the book a little tighter. Would Lorenzo let him keep it? Or could he take photos of the pages? It was like being given his own personal Sector database. Pocket edition.

Before he could ask, there was another important piece of information to know. “A time traveller,” Noah echoed flatly. “So… not only could she be anywhere in the world, she could be anywhere in history? Anywhere in the future?” In that case, tracking her down really would be a lot more effort than he felt like exerting. The task could be outright impossible. Unless…

“Wait, if she’s a time traveller, then all we need to do when we find her is tell her to meet us right here, right now at this point in time, so she can simply tell us where to find her and then we can go get her!”

He whipped out his phone, noted the time as 01:48, and waited a beat, hoping she would suddenly appear in the room.

She didn’t.

“Well, that’s a shame.”

Flipping to the last page with writing on, his eyes immediately caught on the name Dane Wayland. He let out a disbelieving snort. Could it be…? Sassy Pants was the only Dane Noah had ever met. What were the chances that the Dane in the notebook was the same man?

Half of a phone number was hastily scrawled next to the name. Curious, he opened his contacts app and checked the number under ‘Sassy Pants’ against the digits in the book. “Oh shit,” he laughed quietly. “This guy…” Oh. Yikes. That was awkward: Dane was a hunter and Flora was gifted. While Dane claimed he didn’t go around killing every gifted person he met, who knew if Flora had pushed just the right buttons (or had just the right bounty on her head) for Dane to pull out a knife or summon that huge dog of his?

Noah sucked a breath through his teeth. He stood up, putting his phone away and placing the notebook on the table before slowly trailing over to Lorenzo. “Listen, I don’t want to upset you, mon chouchou, but I have to be honest. If your sister was hunting hunters…” Looking down at him with a small, sympathetic smile, he put his hands on the other man’s upper arms and gently rubbed his thumbs against him. “We should probably manage our expectations, okay? If I help you, we will find out what happened to her, but the odds of finding her alive… aren’t looking too good.”


@gwen